Redemption
by WriteOnForever
Summary: If he couldn't change the past, he would give his son a future. Final piece in the Mercy arc.


**HIGH T** for dark themes, including references to rape and detailed violence, and cursing

Disclaimer: This show is PG. High T and PG are not compatible.

Redemption

The Superboy was back.

Belle Reve was in an uproar, unable to believe the sheer _audacity _this kid had. Coming back after he'd ruined their chance at freedom? Despicable. Stupid. Suicidal.

And Joar was never so thankful in his entire life.

Cam was getting released in two month's time, and he needed help. Because he was only seventeen and he couldn't make it on his own, not yet, especially after what he'd been through. And Joar couldn't let him be sent into the real world without any guidance or support.

He needed to speak with Superboy.

Gates arranged for a meeting, taking place after Superboy talked with Cam. That was his only reason for returning, a talk with Cam. Joar almost laughed at that. Almost. But he didn't laugh anymore, or smile, or feel. Not like he'd done that much before, but now, after everything, it simply didn't happen.

It was no secret that he'd been the one to kill Wilcox and Ojo. Whatever cover-up the prison offered fell upon deaf ears for the other inmates. They knew it had been their capo's work. And that scared them. So Cam was safe. For now. But that fear was wearing thin, and the others were circling for blood. Even though Cam was officially under his protection, seated with his group in the rec room and cafeteria, sharing a cell with Captain Cold, there were still more enemies than friends. And if they wanted him, they would take him. And he couldn't let that happen. Not again.

So that's why he was sitting behind the glass wall, crammed into a space even smaller than the cell, waiting for the hero.

"What do you want?" He wasn't even sitting down before the words were flying out of his mouth.

With a sneer, Joar responded, "I need a word with you."

"What? Mad because I talked to Junior?" Crossing his arms over his chest, he continued, "It's not his fault the jailbreak failed. And the only reason I came back was to apologize."

"Apologize?" Leaning forward, Joar hissed, "You think apologizing is going to make up for what happened? You owe him a Hell of a lot more than an 'I'm sorry.'"

"I'm the reason his sentence stayed at the original three months," the teen responded. "And I'm doing more him than _you've _ever done. He's just a kid and _you _had him sent to a prison. He's dedicated his whole life to following in your footsteps and you don't even care!"

"I don't care?" Joar was out of his seat, his nails digging into his palms. "Don't give me that! You shared a cell for what, two days? You don't know _anything_. So don't you dare say that I don't care about my son!"

Superboy stared at him, maintaining eye contact but unable to offer a response. "What do you want?"

"I need a favor. Junior gets out in two months. He needs somewhere to go."

"What do you want me to do about that?"

"I'm seen your Kiddie Justice League on the news."

"You want him to join?"

"Yes."

"How stupid do you think I am? We can't let a criminal join, especially not one who has such close ties with a high-risk villain."

"Forget the pep talk. You know him—he's not cut out for this. He's better off as a hero than a villain."

"I trust him; it's you I don't trust. You've been using him to do whatever you wanted and now you suddenly learned how to be a father? What gives?"

Joar wanted to punch him in the face, but he restrained himself. Not because the glass separating them was indestructible. Because the arrogant brat had a point.

"I screwed up," he whispered. "And he paid the price for it."

Superboy stared at him, confusion and fear fleeting across his face. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"He has to get out of this life and there's no other way than through you. Please."

"What happened to him?"

Shaking his head, forcing himself to keep his mind blank, he proceeded, "Don't do this for me. Do it for him. Please." And he hated that he was groveling, begging before a goddamn hero, but Cam needed this. "Promise me you'll help him when he's released."

"I can't—"

"Promise. Me." He spat the words, struggling to keep himself from screaming because _damn it _he messed up and he had to fix it, somehow. But there was no way to fix it, to undo that damage that had been done, so this was as close as he could get. "Promise me you'll get him on your team."

"I'll talk to Batman," Superboy murmured. "He's in charge. But it's not going to be easy." After a moment, he repeated, "What happened to him?"

And there was a pleading kind of look in his eyes, like he desperately needed to know. And Joar almost told him, just to see the how he would react, just to see the loathing and the contempt. But he didn't. It wasn't his place to say, and besides, saying it out loud would make it so very, very real. So all he said was, "He was hurt."

And that was an understatement, but it was enough for Superboy because he nodded slowly and replied, "I'll get him on the team."

"Thank you," he mumbled, standing to leave.

"Is he okay?"

A simple question. One that was so hard to question.

Without turning back, he offered, "I hope so."

Because he did, more than anything else in this world.

Outside of the room, Gates was waiting, trying to appear bored but giving away his anxiety by clenching and unclenching his right hand. "How'd it go?" he asked as they headed to the rec room.

"He said he'd do it."

"You believe him?"

"I have no other choice."

They spent the rest of the walk in silence.

Barely one foot into the recreation area, he knew something was wrong. Both Freeze and Cold were on their feet, staring down Brick and his crew. Cam was still seated, knees to his chest. Approaching them, he demanded, "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing, oh great capo," Brick mocked, taking one step closer to the bleachers. Blockbuster and Mammoth growled but made no move to stop him. "Just asking your boy what the hero wanted to talk about."

"Back the Hell off, Brick."

"Calm yourself. We're having a discussion, aren't we, Junior?" And he flashed a dark smile, lustful and vicious, and Cam shrunk even further in his seat.

"Leave him alone."

"Are you going to let daddy protect you forever?" Brick questioned, addressing Cam as though Joar hadn't spoken at all. "Because I think it's been made pretty clear that he can't always keep you safe."

"Leave," Joar hissed.

"He's a big boy, Icicle. He can handle himself. Can't you?"

When Cam kept silent, staring straight ahead, eyes emotionless, Brick sneered, "You're such a little bitch."

"Shut up and get out of my sight," Joar snarled.

"Make me," he challenged, turning from the son to the father.

Mammoth and Blockbuster growled again, but before they could act, Icicle held up his hand. Stepping toward the other Star City villain, he played his ultimate card: "You really want to end up like Ojo and Wilcox?"

Brick leaned back his head and laughed, and Joar felt dread settle into his stomach. Because the fear had worn off; Cam's interaction with Superboy was the final straw. And his position alone would not be enough, not now.

"I'll fight you," he declared.

Brick stopped laughing and met the angry gaze with amusement. "You really want to fight me, old man? You're long past your prime, you know that."

"I win, you and everyone else leaves Junior alone for the rest of his imprisonment."

"And when I win?"

Without missing a beat, without looking worried or unsure, he offered, "Then he's yours to do whatever you want."

"Icicle," Cold snapped, warning in his tone, but it was too late to think about the consequences.

Brick smirked. "You're on."

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he prepared himself for the fight. It was stupid, taking on the younger and stronger man, but there had been no other option. Because they would keep after Cam until they had him. Unless they were stopped. And in this Hell, there was only one way to stop them.

Licking his lips, he snuck a quick glance at Cam. His son was watching, eyes wide with fear. Losing was not an option.

He threw the first punch, launching himself at his opponent, hoping the sudden movement would give him the upper hand. It didn't. Brick easily blocked him and kicked him in the stomach, sending him skidding across the floor. Growling, he scrambled to his feet, only to be sent down with a punch to the jaw. Biting back a groan, he barely dodged another kick, throwing himself at Brick's legs. Now in the superior position, Joar landed several well-placed punches before the other retaliated, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming him into the ground. Hot blood spilled from his forehead, dribbling into his eyes, and as he tried to stand, Brick kicked him in the abdomen, ripping the wind from his body and leaving him unable to move.

As he lay there, dazed and struggling to breath, it was slowly registering that he had _lost_. And what he'd lost wasn't his stupid title—it was his son. His only son who shouldn't be in this place anyway. And he knew what would happen to him. Again. And again it would be his fault.

Forcing his eyes to focus, he saw Brick stomping toward the bleachers to gain his prize. His bodyguards had abandoned their post, but Freeze and Cold had not, standing in front of Cam. But they couldn't save him. And Brick knew that.

Staggering to his feet, he ran toward his opponent, ramming into his back. They both crashed into the floor, and Joar took no time in his attack. Because if he didn't get Brick now, there was no way he would win. So punch after punch split his face and blackened his eyes, and when he snarled and moved to stand, Joar jumped to his feet and kicked him in the ribs, once, twice, three times. It was enough to crack them, if not break them, because the man winced as he stood. He tried to throw a punch, but it was sloppily done, leaving his uninjured ribs exposed. Joar brought his fist into the delicate bones before elbowing him in the back. As Brick whipped around, Joar kicked him in the crotch, and as the other gasped in pain and hunched over, he brought his foot down on his neck. Even with the collar, the force was enough to knock him to the ground. Seeing his opportunity, Joar kicked him once more in the face before pinning him to the floor, knee digging into his chest, right below the collar.

"I win," he hissed.

"Not a chance," Brick growled, but there was no strength behind the words.

Grabbing his enemy's head with both hands, he brought it down with a resounding crack. "Do _not _test me." Looking around, he snarled, "That goes for all of you. Junior's off-limits—you got that?"

Silence.

Collecting himself, he got to his feet and faced his son. Even from a distance, Joar could see that he was shaking. And as the adrenaline rush faded, he realized what he'd just done. He'd bet him. As though he was an object. As though he could be traded. As though he meant nothing.

"Get up, Cam," he murmured, speaking as softly as he could when he reached him. He obeyed, staring at the ground.

Gates, witness to the battle, watched as the two approached. Without question, he let them leave the room, him following.

"What the _Hell _were you thinking?" the guard demanded.

"I don't know," Joar retorted. And honestly, that was the best answer he could give.

"You could have _lost_!"

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I know what would have happened if I had? But I didn't have any other option!"

"No other option?" the man repeated.

"You don't know what it's like here. You may think that you know, but you don't have a damn clue what it's really like to be stuck in this place. And until you become one of us, you'll never know."

"I never plan on becoming one of you."

And Joar wanted to lash out, rip the sneer off this cocky bastard's face because he wasn't better than the rest of them, wasn't some kind of fricking saint because that first time, it's not like _he _stopped them from raping Cam. But he didn't because he owed him, owed him for covering up the murders as best he could and for keeping him out of solitary confinement and for caring about Cam.

So instead of responding, he took an uneven breath and turned to his son, who had sunk to the floor, head buried in his arms, still shaking. And a stab of guilt sliced through him as he knelt before Cam and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replied, but unshed tears tainted his voice.

"Please, Cam, listen. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't mean to put your life on the line like that. Please, believe me."

"I do." Looking up, he murmured, "You're hurt," and gently, so very, very gently, wiped away the blood.

And Joar realized how young he was, how innocent and kind and _good_, and it sickened him to think of the Hell he'd been through, the suffering he'd endured, all because of him.

"You're going to be okay," he promised. "It's going to be okay."

And for the next month, it was. No one went near him. No one said a word to him. And Joar was convinced that everything would work out.

That was when Count Vertigo entered the picture.

Five ice ships, needed to prevent a healthy heart from getting to his niece. Personally, Joar thought the plan was excessive, calling this kind of favor for one murder, but they would be rewarded, and that was the key. So he agreed.

It was only when Strange off-handedly mentioned that he'd arrange for supplies to build three cold ray guns that Joar realized his problem. Cam couldn't be involved, not if he was going to play with the sidekicks. Because appearing to be involved and actually being involved were two completely different things. Because one left him innocent, truly innocent, and the other didn't. So he blurted out that he'd need four, Junior wasn't going to play a role in this one, Ivo would do it instead. And Strange nodded, unconcerned, leaving Joar to silently congratulate himself.

Two days later he was panicking.

Cam wasn't in his cell. According to Captain Cold, he disappeared. And even though Cold has no reason to lie, no reason to hurt Cam or help anyone hurt Cam, Joar couldn't accept it, wouldn't accept it because the teen couldn't just be _gone_, couldn't just vanish. So he went on a tirade, screaming that someone had better tell him what happened to his son. And even though Gates tried to calm him while the other guards threatened to use the collar, he wouldn't stop because Cam was missing and he was _scared_.

The electricity rippled through his body and left him unconscious for a day, and when he awoke, he saw Gates and Cam by his side in the Infirmary. Before he could ask any questions, the guard explained that Klarion and the other wizards had divided the world into two dimensions, one for adults and one for kids, which meant that Cam had been fine, completely, one hundred percent unharmed, having spent the day alone in the cell. And Joar, so relived, so grateful, was glad that he'd kept Cam out of Count Vertigo's plan. Because he couldn't stand the thought of anything else happening to him, and if he played a part in this, he'd never be accepted by the heroes and he'd be all alone in the world at seventeen. And he wouldn't make it. And Joar, after all he had done and all he had failed to do, could not let that happen. So the plan went without a hitch—on their end, anyway—and left him content.

Until the next day.

"Cam's upset," Cold muttered.

"What?" Barely moving his head, he eyed his son, sitting on the other side of Freeze. He seemed alright.

"You didn't include him yesterday."

"So? You'd think he's upset that he didn't almost kill a little girl?"

"It's not that—he just knows you left him out of something. You've never done that before, even when you should have."

Choosing to ignore the accusatory tone, he countered, "Your point?"

"What happened between this scheme and the previous one?"

The answer dawning on him, he harshly demanded, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"He doesn't think he's good enough anymore," Cold whispered.

"He told you that?"

"He talks in his sleep. I pieced it together."

Realizing this was not something he could dismiss or take lightly, he got to his feet and sat on the other side of his son. "We need to talk," he murmured, voice so quiet that even Freeze couldn't hear.

"About what?"

"Yesterday. Are you mad I excluded you?"

And he instantly regretted using _excluded_ because Cam flinched and lowered his head. "Maybe."

"I can't win with you. You don't want to do the stuff I make you do, but the one time I leave you out, you're upset." He was trying to lighten the mood, trying to say it with some sense of humor, but he knew it wasn't working, that his voice was too harsh and too angry, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "You know why Count Vertigo wanted those ships? To keep his dying niece from getting a transplant heart. You really wanted to me a part of that?"

"No," he whispered, cowering slightly.

"So what's your problem?"

"You didn't want me to help."

"Because you wouldn't want to do it!"

"Because you're embarrassed of me."

And the pain in his voice stunned Joar, who only looked at him in disbelief, wondering how he could even think that. "Cam, that's not true."

"It is," he protested weakly. "You don't want me to help you anymore because of how pathetic I am. I'm not good enough to follow you because I let them…I let them _do _that to me, over and _over _and I should've fought harder, I should've—"

"Cameron." Grabbing his shoulders, he forced his son to face him. "That had absolutely no bearing whatsoever on why I didn't want you involved. I never even thought that way. You know why? Because you didn't let them do a damn thing to you. This was not your fault. None of this was your fault."

"Really?" And he sounded so desperate for reassurance that Joar actually winced.

"Really. You're not evil; you're not a killer. _That's_ why I didn't have you do this one." After a moment, he added, "Besides, the Kiddie Justice League wouldn't take you if you were involved."

"What?"

"I talked to Superboy; he said he'd get you on his team."

It took some time for him to process the information. "You did? Why?"

"You're not evil," he repeated. "You're not meant to be a villain. And…and I need to know you'll be safe once you get out of here."

Slowly, the sadness that had been etched into his face faded, replaced with a small smile. It was broken, slightly mangled from disuse, but it was there. "Thanks, Dad."

And that was enough to convince Joar that he'd done the right thing.

The weeks that followed were a blur, days becoming nights and nights drifting into days until it was the end of Cam's sentence. Early in the morning, long before the others prisoners awoke, Gates opened his cell and murmured, "Batman and Superboy are here for him."

So Joar stood and followed the guard to Cam's cell, where the teen was sitting up in his bed, seemingly too excited to sleep. As soon as he saw them approach, he was on his feet, waiting for the cell to be unlocked.

"Ready?" Gates asked.

The teen nodded enthusiastically. "So ready."

"Take care of yourself, kid," Captain Cold mumbled, only semi-awake.

"I will."

And then they were gone, walking down the empty hallways, heading for freedom. And Joar was trying to remain stoic, trying to keep his composure, but it was hard. Because he was letting his son go, releasing him from the grasp of villainy, but that still meant he was losing him. And just because it was the right thing, the only way to redeem himself, didn't make it any easier.

At the entrance, Gates removed Cam's proprietary collar and, glancing between father and son, said, "I'll give you some time to talk."

Joar was never one for sentimentality, which was why he was left speechless when Gates retreated. Cam stood, waiting, eyes roving his father's face, trying to understand. Finally, pulling himself together, he managed, "You better be okay."

"I will, Dad."

"Don't let anyone give you any crap about your past, got that? You're a good person."

"Alright."

"And you better as Hell come back and visit me."

"Was already planning to," he replied, that smiling tugging at his lips.

And any other words were stuck in his throat, chocking him, leaving the only other option a physical embrace. This time, Cam didn't even hesitate: he accepted the hug, burrowing his head in his father's neck.

"I love you, Cam," he whispered.

"I love you too, Dad."

And the overwhelming truth in that sentence made Joar realize that he and all the others had been wrong: Cam was the strongest one among them. Because none of them could have gone through what he had gone through and come out as well as he did. Anyone else would have been left shattered, embittered and angry and vengeful. But not Cam. Not his son.

"They're waiting," Gates said softly, approaching the two.

They broke apart, Cam going to Gates's side. With one last glance at the prison, at his father, at the only life he knew, he left, stepping into the emerging light of day.

And as Joar watched him head for the Batmobile, meeting Superboy halfway to exchange words and a fist-bump, he knew Cam would be alright. He was strong. He was a fighter. He would prove to the world that he was a hero. And that's all that mattered to Joar. Because he could not give him back his stolen childhood, could not reverse time to protect him like he should have, but he could give him a future. And it wasn't much, but maybe, just maybe, it was enough.


End file.
